


Tempest

by devotchka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Consensual Non-Consent, M/M, Masochism, POV Second Person, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:31:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: This isn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms for either of you. You know that much, but you’ve started doing it, and now you can’t quit.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Kudos: 38





	Tempest

You can hear Connor whimpering, his face muffled by the pillows and sheets you’ve pushed it up against. He squirms beneath you like he’s trying to get away. He’s pinned below your weight and taking your cock with what seems like pain.

This isn’t the healthiest of coping mechanisms for either of you. You know that much, but you’ve started doing it, and now you can’t quit.

Connor has no pain threshold, but throughout, he makes it sound like you’re hurting him. You don’t know why you find that so attractive.

“Tell me to stop.” You say. “Beg me not to do this to you.”

“Please, _please_ , you’re hurting me.”

* * *

The first time it happens, you’re in the middle of a heated argument. You’re already focused on Connor’s lack of humanity. You’ve pinned him up against a nearby wall, and his chosen response is to scan you.

You don’t like what he finds.

“You’re aroused.” He states, as if it’s simple and natural and normal.

You can’t deny that having him pinned beneath you makes your heart beat a little bit faster and your cock twitch in your jeans. You don’t like that with a robot the response is a thousand times more obvious.

“I can take care of it for you,” he says, “if that’s what you’d like.”

“I would hurt you.” You say.

“I would let you.” He replies.

Connor truly is beautiful. He breathes and trembles like he’s human; he sobs and pleads like he’s human.

It’s fucked up – so fucked up – and it stings a little worse that you know he’s manufacturing all of this because he can see what it does to you.

* * *

You’re in the locker room the first time Connor rides your cock, and it’s the closest thing to being impaled you think he can ever feel. He’s inhuman enough to make it look easy, but now your hands are gripping his waist and you’re bouncing him around like a toy, and his legs are trembling where they’re spread around you.

You like that.

You glance down and you can see yourself sliding into him over and over, stretching him out, slick with lube. You think people must know that the two of you do this. The guys next door might hear the bench creaking through these thin walls, or maybe Connor panting, or the slick wet sound of you fucking him.

Something about that does it for you, and suddenly you’re slamming him down so hard he whimpers. You grip his thighs to keep him in place and you come in him.

* * *

Connor has a smart mouth. It used to come from a place of lighthearted innocence, but now you think he likes to set you off because it makes you more aggressive with him. You settle arguments in the bedroom.

He just feels so pliable compared to you, sturdy yet all lean muscle – you can twist him around just about any way you want to. It’s no big deal to get him on his knees, bent over your bed. He stills once you start spanking him, and you do it until his skin tinges that fascinating blue, until it’s threatening to do the closest thing to bruising that it can.

Maintaining control is the easy part. You can wrap one hand around both of his wrists, keep them pinned, and he wouldn’t dream of fighting you.

The first time you did this to him you’d almost questioned your sanity for wanting such things. The fact that he’s just as fucked up as you, moaning for it, for you to hurt him, makes you think about it less.

Today is just one of those days, a pain seeking one, for both of you. You put him on the floor. You assault him. His body is hardly ready, and you know he wants to scream as you fill him so violently, ramming the head of your cock through overwhelming tightness and shoving the rest with it before he can adjust.

Wordlessly, you marvel at his resilience as you occupy that small, tight space. His hands are trembling, and he grabs at anything to stop it. His skin burns hot against you.

* * *

You always feel guiltiest right after sex. You always feel the most existential. Why would Connor want this? Can he even really _want_ at all?

“I trust you.” He says.

You think it’s all pretend. You eye him with suspicion.

“I like doing this.” He insists, and then he moves to straddle your waist, and you feel yourself already aching for another round. He smirks like he knows so, and you think that he must. “Let me show you how much I like it.”

It takes a long time for you to accept this, but eventually you do.


End file.
